


Letting You Win In My Non-Reaction

by helens78



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-05
Updated: 2008-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody's got to pose as Daniel's slave. This time it's Cam. Daniel seems remarkably comfortable treating people like property, and Cam's remarkably uncomfortable with what that says about Daniel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting You Win In My Non-Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed notes on story content are available at the end of the fic.
> 
> This was for the "You'll do" prompt for a table full of prompts meant to lead to stories in which people say anything but "I love you". Daniel Jackson is one of those characters that I love, but who has his oddly unsympathetic qualities. I don't know if I will ever be able to get over the fact that Sha're was given to him as property, and _he took her_. Maybe he loved her, certainly from all accounts she fell in love with him -- but when you get right down to it, she had no choice.
> 
> And he was okay with that.
> 
> So yeah, I often wonder what other kinds of things he feels entitled to, how comfortable he is taking stuff when it's just out there for the taking. And if he knows Cam's struggling with some attraction, I have no trouble believing he'd take full advantage of that without thinking twice.

Cam doesn't think he's very good at this, but Jackson doesn't seem to pay any attention to him anyway, so maybe it doesn't matter. Cam's only instructions were "be quiet and look pretty", and if the smirk on Jackson's face when he said it made certain parts of Cam twitch, well, he's been not-asking and not-telling for years on end, and one smirky anthropologist is not going to break his fifteen-year cold streak. Cam's not so great at being quiet--vocally, yeah, but he's got no poker face to speak of--and he's reasonably sure he's even less good at looking pretty, but nobody's blinking too hard at him. Maybe he'll do after all.

The other slaves--and it makes Cam's jaw clench seeing them, recognizing that this is a culture where slavery's not put on for show; it's damn hard getting used to that--all sprawl across the floor, making use of the pillows as the diplomats sit down to talk with Jackson. Cam glances at Jackson for instructions, and Jackson reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. "It's all right," he murmurs. "Join the others."

Cam nods and sprawls out at Jackson's feet, and the other slaves look at him and smile. _Oh, mama, they all think I'm shy. Jackson, get us the hell out of here._

But the negotiations aren't fast. In fact, things go on so long that someone brings in lunch, a collection of little bite-sized things. Jackson absently slaps at Cam's hand when he reaches for one, then picks it up and holds it on his palm without even taking his attention away from the guy he's negotiating with.

Cam blinks at it. Stares at it. Finally, after looking around at the rest of the room and the way everyone else on the floor is being hand-fed, he sighs and nibbles the little piece of whatever off Jackson's hand.

Jackson scratches the back of his neck, pets him. Cam's glad he already swallowed his food, or he'd be choking about now.

Sometime in the afternoon, after food's been had and negotiations are reaching a point where everyone needs a break, the diplomats start bringing their slaves up onto their laps. Cam looks at Jackson, wide-eyed.

"Don't worry. You're too heavy for that, and they know it," Jackson murmurs.

"Thanks a lot."

But Jackson's slipping off his sofa and pushing Cam down onto the pillows. Cam goes with it, but when Jackson's flattened himself out on top of him, he moves his lips to Jackson's ear and whispers, "Jackson, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Fitting in."

"You don't think you're going just a little too far?"

"Look around. If anything, we're not going far enough."

Cam sighs. Jackson's right, of course; diplomats are getting it on all over the damn room. Cam really ought to be more shocked, more scandalized, but at this point not much surprises him on these missions. The only thing really surprising is that Jackson didn't give him more notice.

Oh, yeah--and Jackson's hard, his dick digging into Cam's thigh. That's a little bit of a surprise, too.

"Okay, uh," and Cam's not exactly slacking in that department himself, "wait, we can't--what are we supposed to do here?"

"Well, I assume you were paying attention earlier when I said you were supposed to follow my lead."

Cam gives Jackson a look, and Jackson responds by kissing him hard on the mouth. _Follow your lead? This is your lead?_ Cam struggles for a second, fifteen years of instinct taking over. This isn't something he's just supposed to go for; he's supposed to fight it. Jackson's familiar with Earth culture, military culture. He should be _expecting_ Cam to fight it.

Jackson's not that much bigger than Cam, not that much stronger. He's got leverage and all, but Cam could get him loose if he really wanted to. But there's their cover, and the fact that they could really use the weapons-grade naquadah on this planet; there's never enough of that to go around. And Cam's not sure how far Jackson's planning to take this, but Cam hasn't gotten laid in a very, very long time, and he sure as hell hasn't gotten any dick to speak of in years, so in the end he just goes along with it, letting Jackson pin him and kiss him and rub up against him, making soft little gasps as he rubs his dick--through clothes, but still--against Cam's thigh.

It's off-and-on for Cam. One minute he's digging it, the next he realizes he's in a room full of people who think he's a slave and might want their turn next. One minute Jackson's making sounds that are about as hot as anything he's ever heard, the next Cam's reminded that he's got to _work_ with this guy. But when Jackson tears his mouth away from Cam's, pins him _hard_, and groans right into Cam's ear, dick jerking over and over again, Cam has to bite his lower lip and try to hang onto his dignity. Might be all very well and good for Jackson to come like that, but Cam has no intention of sharing an orgasm with a room full of people.

Jackson sits up after a minute. "I'll be back," he says. He looks winded, but his poker face is back on, and Cam just doesn't know the guy well enough to take a read off it. "Stay here."

Cam nods. He stays on his back, relieved that nobody's paying him any mind. Within a few more minutes, Jackson's back, and people start getting up and rearranging their clothes as the talks resume.

It's a few weeks before Cam can bring himself to ask Jackson about it. He could just leave it, of course; Jackson's not military, doesn't have to play by the same rules Cam does, and technically _Cam_ didn't do a damn thing.

But that poker face is something Cam can't penetrate, and the next team night, he deliberately gets Sam to shuffle Teal'c and Vala off early so he can have it out. Jackson occupies himself with looking at Cam's bookshelves while Cam tries to get the nerve up to speak.

"Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"P3Z-922?" Jackson asks. He doesn't even take his eyes off the books.

"That'd be the one," Cam says. "Look, I don't mind taking one for the team every now and then, but I would've liked some warning."

Jackson does turn around, then, and he gives Cam a goddamn once-over. "Really."

"What--yes, really, what do you mean, 'really'?" Cam frowns as Jackson walks over to him. "Guys usually want a warning if you're gonna climb on 'em and--" He can't finish the thought; Jackson's too close. "Hey," Cam whispers.

"I need to be clear on this. I don't want you to misunderstand. This wasn't some kind of kinky attempt to get you into bed. I'm not pining after you. You were just there."

Cam blinks at him. "I was just there."

"You may not have noticed this, but I don't get out of the house much. It's been a while. You were there."

He's _here_, too, looking right into Jackson's eyes and refusing to give ground. Jackson's not backing away, either. "Tell me something," Cam murmurs, and if he's wrong about this, well, he'll figure out how to apologize. Or he'll duck. "Was it the fact that I was there or the fact that I couldn't say no?"

Jackson's mouth turns down at both corners, and his eyes move left to focus on the wall just to the side of Cam's head. _Gotcha_, Cam thinks. Even he can read that.

"You weren't going to say no," Jackson says. "If we'd been here--"

"Here?" Cam glances around his apartment. No if about it; here they are.

"On Earth. You wouldn't have said no."

"Would you have let me?"

Jackson turns away at that, heading for the door. "I'll see you later, Mitchell."

It's a non-answer in a conversation that never happened in the first place; Cam can't bitch about it. He locks the door once Jackson's gone, cleans up the popcorn and the Coke cans and gets the house back in order.

Next morning it's P9Q-CQG. Jackson chatters up a storm about their burial rituals, Vala shudders and tries to get Teal'c to comfort her--mausoleums do not make Vala happy, it looks like--and Sam glances over at Cam, bumping shoulders with him as they walk toward the gate room.

"You all right?" she asks. "You look distracted."

"I'm fine," Cam says, shaking his head. "No worries. Tell me again why the mausoleum kings are so important?"

It gets her talking about the planet and its rotation, and Cam leads the team through the gate, ignoring the way Jackson's eyes feel on his back as he goes.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> **A note on story elements:** The consent issues in this story are thick on the ground. I hesitate to call it actual noncon, and the characters talk it out quite thoroughly, but the issue is _not_ resolved.


End file.
